birthdays without you
by TruantPony
Summary: Those spaces you used to fill are now full of thoughts and memories of you.  No substitute for the real thing.  Seven-shot birthday challenge for BA's IR FC.
1. Chappy

**Summary/Theme:**

birthdays without you- Those spaces you used to fill are now full of thoughts and memories of you. No substitute for the real thing. Seven-shot birthday challenge for BA's IR FC.

The first theme is Chappy.

**A/N:** This is a basically a one-shot challenge broken into seven parts, posted over seven days. I've organized things into three arcs, Year One, Year Two, and Year Three, with the term 'year' used very loosely.

I'm not going to promise anything, but I would REALLY like to finish all seven parts of this challenge. So I'll try very hard...

**Timeline:** Consecutive order, between the scenes, Ichigo/Rukia speculation.

**Warnings:** None!

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

_Year One_

_I heart Chappy the Rabbit._

Ichigo turned sixteen today.

No one was to know that he was hiding a shinigami in his closet, so Rukia hung back at the top of the stairs near Ichigo's room and listened wistfully as he celebrated the successful completion of another human year with his family.

She had gotten him a gift, but now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure whether or not to give it to him. It was _definitely_ inappropriate for a Soul Reaper, but compared to transferring her power to Ichigo it was the least of her sins. Besides, they were friends weren't they? She had taken over his closet, and he hadn't kicked her out (though he had made some threatening noises in the beginning), so that made them friends of a sort. Having so thoroughly FUBARed her first independent mission, Rukia figured that with the way things were going, she might never be allowed back, so she might as well use up what was left of her living world stipend.

The Kurosaki family finished their dinner, and started cleaning up. Rukia could hear the clatter of dishes being washed and put away. The clear alto voices of Ichigo's sisters and the booming laughter of Isshin drifted up the stairwell. Silently, she slipped back into Ichigo's room closet.

Not long after, he came up with a plate of food. "Sorry it took so long. Yuzu baked a cake and they made me open presents at the table. And by the way, that's the last piece," he said gesturing to the small slice of German chocolate cake. "Blame the old man."

"Thanks," Rukia said as she took the proffered plate.

Ichigo looked taken aback, and watched her for a moment as she ate. "That's strange."

"What?" Rukia asked, pausing mid-bite, food half-way between the plate and her mouth.

"You're not complaining about anything," he pointed out.

Rukia frowned. "Just what exactly do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"...nothing." His lip twitched at the corner and he turned away.

Rukia continued eating her dinner as Ichigo sat down at his desk to read. After she finished, she put the plate aside.

"Ichigo," she said, getting his attention, "catch!" Without further ado, she tossed her gift across the room at him.

It struck him on the side of his head and bounced off.

"What the hell, Rukia!" he cursed, rubbing his temple as he bent down to retrieve her gift.

"You need to improve your reaction time," Rukia said, frowning disapprovingly, arms crossed over her chest.

He scowled. "You ought to try out for the national team, with an arm like that. What if you gave me a concussion!"

Rukia smirked slyly. "I couldn't possibly. Your head is too hard."

He ignored her in favor of examining what he had in his hand. It was a simple leather wrist cuff, like many of the other ones he frequently wore. Reddish brown, it had been aged and distressed, decorated with an old brass snaps, studs and rivets, but when he flipped it over there was a hidden zip and a concealed pocket. He fished around the inside and there was a piece of paper, a rabbit holding a cake and one of Rukia's infamous 'coded messages', which he could now decipher like a codebreaker.

_Cahaveke caake cahappyke cabirthke cadayke! _

"Have... a... happy... birth-day," he read in between the lines of cake gibberish. "Rukia," he said pausing to give her an indecipherable look, "this is..."

"A stealth wallet. When you go out you won't have to worry about your things getting stolen," she explained. She remembered when she had asked why he always wore a chain on his wallet, and his response was so he wouldn't get pick-pocketed. "It's not much," she shrugged.

Ichigo opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to speak. Instead, he slowly put the leather cuff on and then he stared hard at her, not saying a word.

Rukia regarded him coolly through half-lidded eyes. She wondered what he could possibly be thinking, whether giving him a gift was a mistake.

Something flashed in his eyes and he looked down, flexed his wrist a couple of times. "Fits great. Thanks," he finally said with a grin, voice low and rough. "I like it."

"Good," she said softly.

oOoOoOo

There was an ever present feeling of danger humming in the marrow of her bones. Even without her powers, Rukia had found that her instincts were often spot on. She looked out the window at the silver crescent of the waning moon. She had maybe a week, two at the most before Soul Society sent someone. It was dangerous in more ways than one, to remain under the Kurosakis' roof. Collateral damage, and all that.

Ichigo walked into the room, towel still slung around his neck and kicked the door closed with the heel of his foot. Without a word, Rukia got off his bed and hopped onto the closet shelf. There was a routine to the night, of stealth showers and hollow hunts, and with a sharp pang, Rukia realized just how long she had been in the living world- long enough that there were routines and times when she felt almost human. Long enough that she never thought about home, anymore.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, facing her as he towel dried his hair. It was a rusty reddish brown, muted in the dark. "No alerts?" he asked.

Rukia checked her phone again. "None whatsoever," she said, smiling thinly, "it's your lucky night."

"Tch," he scoffed. "That's because those bastards are waiting until I fall asleep."

"That seems to be the way it is," Rukia murmured, with a note of humor in her voice.

"Hey Rukia," he began absently, "how do you celebrate birthdays in the spirit world?"

"It's Soul Society," she corrected him for the millionth time.

He gave her a flat stare.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked carefully.

"Just wondering," he shrugged.

Rukia frowned, eyes glancing off to the side, as she remembered the birthdays in Rukongai, where they would get an egg, if they were lucky enough to procure one. In contrast, when she got adopted into the Kuchiki clan, her brother would have trunks of fine silk kimonos sent to her, and gold hairpins set with precious gems that cost more than houses in the Sereitei, none of which she had ever touched. Captain Ukitake and Kiyone and Sentaro, the joint third-seats had always offered to throw her a Thirteenth division bash, but after everything that had happened...she felt like it was undeserved. And then Renji...they hadn't spoken in at least thirty years, not really anyway except for the perfunctory greeting whenever they happened to run into each other, which wasn't all that often.

"They're not much different than what you do here," she said slowly.

"I see," he replied. He peered at her across the darkened room, a strange perceptive keenness alight behind his dark eyes. "When is your birthday?"

She told him. It wasn't her real birthday, but it was the only birthday she knew, a date picked at the beginning of the year, out of convenience to mark the passage of time.

"I missed it," he muttered absently.

"Idiot," Rukia said without any real sting, "I wasn't even stationed here yet."

"I _know_ that!" he said petulantly as he rubbed a hand through his hair. There was a thoughtful frown on his face and he was quiet for a moment before he said, "I feel like I've known you longer. A lot longer."

That could either be a bad compliment, or a good insult. She wasn't sure how he meant it, and wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. "Happy Birthday, Ichigo...and goodnight," she said softly as she slid the closet door silently on its track until it clicked shut.

oOoOoOo

A few days after Ichigo fought with Grand Fisher, Rukia found a small plush rabbit in her closet. She never asked Ichigo about it, and he never mentioned it. About a week after that, she secretly left the Kurosaki household in the dead of night. Soul Society was closing in on her like a tightening noose. She took Chappy with her.

* * *

><p>Ah, it's so depressing! I promise it gets happier. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Cooking

**Theme:**

The second theme is Cooking.

**Warnings:** None!

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

* * *

><p><em>Year One<em>

_Looking for that perfect taste._

Ichigo and his friends had left Soul Society and in the end, Rukia decided to stay.

"It's good right? Since it's your decision," Ichigo had said after a very long pause.

"Yes," she had replied. Unspoken between them, was that somehow, he had expected her to come back with him.

There was no time to contemplate what that meant. There was a war brewing on the horizon. If she ever intended to go back to the living world (and she did, after all, who was going to kick some sense into Ichigo's head now that she was gone?) first and foremost, Rukia needed to get stronger.

She could once again hear Sodeno Shirayuki's voice deep in her soul, but it was as if from a great distance. She missed her sword, her partner. Her powers still hadn't fully recovered yet. Dr. Unohana had told her to wait a week more, so she eased her restlessness by cooking. After all, her brother Byakuya, who had just recovered from his injuries, had yet to taste her curry.

Rukia stood off to the side of the Kuchiki kitchens, in a corner the chefs have quietly reserved for her use. It was strange at first, for the princess of their noble family to go into the kitchens and cook with an apron and her sleeves tied up like a commoner, but Rukia was so polite and respectful that everyone really came to like having her there.

She stirred the bubbling pot of curry and ladled some out. Then, she sat down, brought the curry to her mouth and tasted it, eyes half-closed, thoughtfully.

"No good," she muttered to herself. "It's not the same. What could it be?"

A very tall, broad-shouldered man with loud red hair and even louder tattoos bounded through the double doors of the kitchen

"Rukia!" he greeted her heartily. "I knew you'd be here."

"Renji!" Rukia exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you've been cooking a lot of curry lately," he said, eyes bright and excited.

Rukia made a non-committal sound of agreement. "I want to make some for Nii-sama now that he's allowed to eat spicy foods but," she frowns, "no matter how I make it, it never seems to taste the same as last time." She remembered using the kitchens of the 4th squad, medical division. Ichigo had sat in the corner, subtly encouraging her in that quiet and unobtrusive way of his. Normally loud, impatient, and abrasive, sometimes, he surprised her.

"You tired of eating curry yet?" Renji asked. Rukia regarded him curiously. He looked really excited about something. After everything that happened on the hill, they finally started repairing their neglected friendship.

"A little," she admitted.

"Do you remember, back in the day, that root we used to dig up and eat?" Renji asked.

"Of course," Rukia answered. Food back then had been so scarce in the 78th district, that they would take whatever they could get. Each bit was a memorable morsel. Those roots though, it was the most delicious thing they had ever eaten. When they finally got accepted into the Soul Reaper Academy, they looked for it everywhere, but in the Court of Pure Souls, no one knew what it was.

"Guess what I found down at the Merchant's district today?" With a little flourish, Renji brought out a knobby brown tuber from the sleeves of his hakama and presented it reverently.

Rukia couldn't believe her eyes. "That's not... it can't be!" She peered at it a little closer. It was the same root from all those years ago. There was no mistaking the mottled brown color.

He grinned, nearly salivating. "Let's eat!" Renji's ebullience was contagious.

Back then, Renji used to cook, so she let him cut up the root and steam it. Rukia cooked a fish, and when they put the simple dish together, it was just like back in the old days.

Waves of nostalgia washed over her, as she remembered the warm feelings as they shared food with three other friends, each one of them homeless Rukongai street urchins, but to her, they were like a family.

She looked over at Renji, and could tell that he was thinking about the past too. Wordlessly, they picked up their chopsticks and dug in. At first, they ate eagerly in quick bites, and then slower and slower until Rukia finally put her chopsticks down.

"It doesn't taste the same," she murmured. Renji's face mirrored her disappointment.

He sighed and scratched his head, adjusting the white cotton headband he wore. "I thought it was just me."

"Did you cook it exactly like last time?" Rukia asked.

"Of course I did! Steamed and salted." Renji said defensively. "It's not like we had a bunch of spices we could use back then."

"Then it must not have been as good as we remembered," Rukia declared.

"Yeah, maybe. I guess we got used to the good food here in Sereitei." Renji continued thoughtfully, "It must have tasted so good because we were starving back then."

"Or maybe," Rukia said slowly, eyes downcast, "maybe it wasn't the food that was so good, but the memories we had."

Her oldest friend looked at her, with a knowing glint in his eyes. "That's the sappiest thing I've ever heard you say. You're getting all soft, Rukia."

"Shut up, tattoo face." She kicked his shin under the table.

"Ow, geez, it was just a joke!" he said rubbing his leg. "Man, what am I gonna do with these things," he said, gesturing at the roots they still had yet to finish eating. "I bought fifty pounds of 'em."

Rukia laughed. "Did you really?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Renji said unhappily. "A week's salary...gone," he muttered under his breath.

Rukia thought about their friends, the ones who hadn't made it out of the 78th district, the three solitary grave markers that stood on a lonely windswept hill overlooking the pure white walls and distant towers of Seireitei. "Save them," she said quietly. "On memorial day, we'll cook it and share it with them again."

"Good idea," he said, smiling softly. "Well, I better get back to work. Your brother's going to skewer me if he finds me slacking off." Renji said as he got up from the table. He walked away with a jaunty wave, and a promise to spar with her when she was well enough to train again.

Rukia decided to try cooking one more batch of curry before bringing it to her brother.

She scooped up a bit of curry into a spoon, blowing on it until it was cool enough to eat. Thoughtfully, she rolled the flavors around on her tongue. They were complex, and rich, smooth, with just the right amount of bite to it. She used the same box of curry that Ichigo had helped get for her last time, the same vegetables, the same meat. She thought Byakuya would like it but...

Eyes downcast, she shook her head ruefully.

"Lady Rukia?" one of the Kuchiki chefs appeared respectfully at her side.

"It's just not the same," she murmured, a soft, absent look on her face.


	3. Niisama

**Summary/Theme:**

birthdays without you- Those spaces you used to fill are now full of thoughts and memories of you. No substitute for the real thing. Seven-shot birthday challenge for BA's IR FC.

The third theme is Nii-sama.

**A/N:** This is a basically a one-shot challenge broken into seven parts, posted over seven days. I've organized things into three arcs, Year One, Year Two, and Year Three, with the term 'year' used very loosely.

**Warnings:** None!

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

_Second Arc: Year Two_

_Nii-sama (approves)_

_There are miles of meaning behind her brother's words._

Her first act as a newly promoted vice-captain was one of outright disobedience.

The captain-general had deigned to crack open one eye in his weathered face. That usually did not bode well. As Rukia dared to lift her head from her kneeling position, she chanced a glance around the room at the varying degrees of expression on the faces of the ten remaining Soul Society captains as they turned their attention to her.

Her own captain, Ukitake had an expression of deep regret and apology on his gentle face, looking even paler and more sick than usual. Kenpachi's rough, scarred visage seemed to be dominated overwhelmingly by boredom, mingled with touch of grudging respect. Hitsugaya merely looked speculative and curious, while Byakuya, her brother, looked his usual stoic self. He fixed his indecipherable gaze on her before closing his eyes and turning away. The rest of the captains didn't have an opinion of her one way or another.

"Kuchiki Rukia," Captain-General Yamamoto grated out in a voice as old, strong, and weathered as a thousand-year pine, "disregarding orders is a punishable offense. Explain yourself."

Cold sweat trickled down her back, but her voice was firm. "With respect, sir, I know that Ichigo...Kurosaki Ichigo would _never_ betray Soul Society." She raised her head just a fraction more, pushing against all the reiatsu in the room, all the heavy eyes. "He is a Soul Society ally, and helped us win the Winter War. He is not our enemy." There was so much more she wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

There was a moment of silence. "We will be the judge of that," Yamamoto finally said. It was as clear a dismissal as any. She bowed even lower and removed herself from the chamber.

Renji was waiting for her just outside, in the hallway. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Rukia jerked away, spinning towards him. "No way!" she said voice rising angrily, hands curling into fists. "There's no way Ichigo would yield to the enemy's temptations!"

"Alright, alright!" Renji exclaimed, holding up both hands, placatingly. "You know I believe you."

Rukia took a deep breath. "We can't just...use him, like bait on a line and then discard him. It's...it's not right," she said, shaking her head sadly.

"You're preaching to the choir," Renji commented. "You need to convince them," he said gesturing towards the chambers, "not me."

oOoOoOo

Though she now saw Byakuya as a brother, and knew that he saw her as his true sister and not the obligation handed to him by the last wishes of his deceased wife, it was still difficult to read his mind, to tell what he was thinking sometimes.

They ate dinner in the large spacious hall of Kuchiki mansion. The kenseikan in Byakuya's strait jet-black hair, caught the dim light, flashing a dull silver-white. It was very quiet, but that in and of itself wasn't too out of the ordinary. Rukia pushed her food around. She darted a glance across the table but could tell nothing from his calm and peaceful countenance.

It had been a long time since she had wondered whether she was a disgrace to the Kuchiki Clan, and more importantly their clan leader, her brother. She spoke out of turn today, worse, she disobeyed orders. Following rules and orders was one of the highest tenets of their clan. If the Kuchiki, as one of the Four Great Noble Houses don't follow rules and orders, then how could they set an example to others? Still, Rukia couldn't find it in her heart to regret her actions. The only thing she regretted was perhaps disappointing her brother.

"Rukia," he said, voice low and calm, without emotional inflection. "Is the food not to your liking?" he asked.

Rukia looked up from her dinner and then quickly looked down. "Ah, it is fine...forgive me. I am not very hungry today," she murmured.

Byakuya watched her, quiet and pensive, grey eyes completely unreadable. At some silent signal of his, servants quietly came and took away all the dishes.

After Byakuya rose, she followed suit, but he did not immediately leave as was his usual custom. Seike, his white haired attendant stood by his side with a long thin box atop a heavily brocaded cushion.

"Rukia, your promotion is well deserved. I think you might find this as useful as I have," Byakuya said smoothly, presenting the gift.

Rukia opened the box slowly. In it, lay a pair of elbow length, gauntlet style, fingerless white gloves, made from the same material as the ones Byakuya wore. "Nii-sama!" She looked up with shining eyes, carefully holding the gloves close.

"Never forget, you are a Kuchiki," he said simply, there was a weight of easy command behind his voice. "Great things are expected of you." He paused, the stern lines of his face softening a little. "I have no doubt you will not disappoint."

Rukia dipped her head respectfully, face pleasantly flushed. "Thank you, Nii-sama," she said softly, feeling as though there was no room in her chest for her heart to expand.

Before he left, he half turned towards her. "Rukia," he said, and though Byakuya was much too poised to show it in his face or his manner, there was a distinctly uncomfortable aura surrounding him. "Your character assessment is astute. He paused. "I trust your judgement."

And without another word, he swept out gracefully. Rukia, who had been looking at the gloves, watched his retreating figure with something like starry-eyed awe.

She was so proud of her new gloves, she rolled up her sleeve to show them off. If it happened to be the same sleeve her badge sat upon, well no one mentioned a word.


	4. Sodeno Shirayuki

**Summary/Theme:**

birthdays without you- Those spaces you used to fill are now full of thoughts and memories of you. No substitute for the real thing. Seven-shot birthday challenge for BA's IR FC.

The fourth theme is Sodeno Shirayuki.

**A/N:** This is a basically a one-shot challenge broken into seven parts, posted over seven days. I've organized things into three arcs, Year One, Year Two, and Year Three, with the term 'year' used very loosely.

**Timeline:** Consecutive order, between the scenes, Ichigo/Rukia speculation.

**Warnings:** Spoiler-ish for chapter 459/60

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

* * *

><p><em>Year Two<em>

_Sodeno Shirayuki_

_One more time._

In one of the Kurosaki family's picture magazines, Rukia once saw a photo of the arctic circle. Cold, and pristine, desolate and barren, plain and unadorned, she remembers thinking that it looks a lot like her inner world where Sodeno Shirayuki lives. The picture is loneliness, and with a pang of guilt, she thinks of Shirayuki, alone amidst the flat landscape and fields of snow in her soul, silver head tilted up at sunless arctic sky.

Rukia closes her eyes and reaches inward, and with a wrenching twist, she finds herself once again in her snowy inner world. Her sword-spirit is in her usual place, so unearthly pale she glows with an incandescent light, beautiful face turned upwards towards the dark sky.

Except, instead of inky black night, there is now an aurora borealis, shimmering like a heavenly tear in the velvet black firmament. Like trails of wind made visible or rippling sheets of iridescent blue-green silk, it gently shines and lights up the sky above them.

"The most beautiful lights often illuminate these darkened skies," Shirayuki says in her light feathery voice. She turns to Rukia, grey eyes wise and knowing. There are no secrets between them, no hiding of thoughts. "But it would be nice to see the sun once again."

"Shirayuki..." Rukia whispers.

"I can hear them calling too," Shirayuki says, and despite the soft voice, there is an undertone of hard tempered steel. "And I am ready."

Instead of using Ichigo as bait to lure out the lost agent, they decide to restore his powers. All of the Soul Society captains and vice-captains give a bit of reiatsu towards this purpose. Rukia gives a bit of her heart and soul.

When the smoke finally clears, so too, does the expression of hopelessness and despair on Ichigo's face.

If she were less Kuchiki Rukia, less a lady of war, she might have cried. Instead, she smiles; for the moment, no suitable words come to mind.

"Rukia," he murmurs, and there's a note of wonder in his voice as his hand rests against his sternum.

She thinks he feels it too, her heart, beating with his.


	5. Memories

**Summary/Theme:**

birthdays without you- Those spaces you used to fill are now full of thoughts and memories of you. No substitute for the real thing. Seven-shot birthday challenge for BA's IR FC.

The fifth theme is Memories.

**A/N: ** Well, I'm keeping up at least. Can't say much for the quality. Thanks for reading! Two more to go!

**Warnings:** None!

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

* * *

><p><em>Year two<em>

_Memories_

_He doesn't miss her. _

After everything is said and done, there's a tiny moment where things are frighteningly _normal_.

They are on the rooftop today, in their usual spot, having lunch. To everyone else in the school, Rukia is just the exchange student on break from abroad, coming to visit her friends. Really, the way she fit into the old school uniform, it's as if she never left. The skirt, though...Ichigo doesn't remember it being so short. He looks away with deliberate effort.

Rukia sits in her old spot, just between Orihime and Chad. When Ichigo closes his eyes, he remembers that gap where she used to be. Those empty spaces, in his closet, in his room, in his _life_, they used preoccupy him, used to take all the mental effort he could muster up to push those thoughts and memories away.

Everyone(minus Chad and Ishida, who sit and watch quietly) bombards her with questions, like "How does it feel to be a vice-captain, what's the weather like in Soul Society, and is she _really_ over 100, because she doesn't look a day over 18 and even that's pushing it..."

"Oi, don't be rude," Ichigo interrupts with a frown.

Mizuiro backs down with smiling eyes, knowing smirk, and a smooth apology.

Ichigo reminds himself that he has to share. He's no good at it, but he still tries, because above all Rukia isn't a thing to be had or possessed. So he sits quietly, eating his lunch, listening to the conversations swirling around him. There is a rare smile on Rukia's face. The wind lifts her hair gently around her cheeks, brushing against the delicate angle of her jawline.

And suddenly he's struck with the memory of a conversation he had with Keigo on this very rooftop not too long ago.

"_Rukia hasn't been back to Karakura even once. You don't miss her?" Keigo had asked, lolling around on the ground._

_There was a long pause. "Like hell I would," he had finally said, leaning out over the rooftop railing. _

It's lie that hurts. And in a startlingly sharp burst of clarity, he realizes the truth would have hurt more. Rukia weaves herself so seamlessly into his life. All his sharpest memories, his proudest moments involve her. How could he not miss her when the world starts to go so fast it looses focus, and everything blurs hazy and dreamlike when she's gone? He could only lie through his teeth, in order to soldier on, powerless, those seventeen months.

The first bell rings, and everyone gathers their things, chattering as they walk down the stairwell. As Rukia passes, he puts a hand on her wrist.

There is a quiet kind of intensity hovering around the lines of his brows and the downturned corners of his lips. He is looking at her, gaze dark behind half-shuttered eyes as if there's something he really wants to tell her, if only he can find the proper words.

Rukia looks up at him, gaze searching and worried. "Ichigo, what's wrong-"

One hand pushes the door to the stairwell until it clicks shut, and the other hand pulls Rukia close until she's flush against his body. Ichigo curls downwards until his mouth slants over hers. The way he kisses is like the way he fights, hot, quick and fierce, more heart than thought. Ichigo holds her tight, squeezes his eyes shut as he lays his chin against the dark crown of her head, feels their reiatsu mingling in the air above them, hot and heavy like the humid summer air.

There's so much he wants to say, like _I kept all your shitty drawings hoping you'd come back and get them, and_ _I tried not to think about you much, but it didn't work. _

"I didn't miss you," he finally mutters in a quiet voice. It's all he can say for now, and he only hopes that she'll understand.

Rukia buries her face in the folds of school uniform, arms around him resting at the curve of his back, fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt. "Fool," she murmurs, voice muffled in his chest, "I didn't miss you either."

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other until the second bell rings.

* * *

><p>Problematic tenses, mistakes everywhere. Ugh, guys, what happened to my quality? *prances off shamefully*<p> 


	6. ViceCaptain duties

**A/N:** I'm LATE! So sorry!

Ffn doesn't like me. ALSO, taking a deviation from canon stuff for post-Bleach imaginings...

**Warnings:** Innuendo.

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

_Final arc: Year Three_

_Vice-captain duties_

_All work and no play..._

The skies in Soul Society were always such an unbelievably blue hue. Something about the invisible bubble that rose over Seireitei keeps the weather nice and pleasant, for the most part.

There was no reason not to throw open all the sliding shoji doors and open the windows, so Ichigo did just that and lounged languidly on the veranda of Rukia's vice-captain office, soaking up the sun like a large jungle cat.

"Ichigo," Rukia says behind a teetering wind-ruffled stack of papers, "you don't have anything to do today?"

He propped his head up on his hand, and opened one eye. "Nope, nothing," he replied, mouth curling lazily.

"Hm." Rukia's dark head rose above a stack of papers, peering at him with narrow-eyed irritation. "Don't you have any friends to play with?" she demanded.

He gave her a flat look. "I wish you wouldn't say it like that. Everyone's too busy to spar."

"It's the end of the month, everyone's busy" she said, rifling through the towering heaps of official looking documents.

"Hey, don't you have help? What about those two, eh..." Ichigo said waving his hand around vaguely, memory for names, just as bad as ever.

"_Kiyone and Sentaro_," Rukia said, stressing their names, "are attending to Captain Ukitake."

"No wonder he's always sick," he muttered. He should have expected the flying kick, but as always, Rukia drops on him like a bolt out of the blue.

"This is my _office_, not your break room!" Rukia said, arms crossed over her chest. "You need to get out."

"I'm not doing anything!" he said, scowling deeply.

"That's the problem," she said dryly, turning away. His reiatsu surrounded her, pressing against her, and buzzing with barely suppressed boredom. She pushed against it with her own energy, resisting the intrinsic pull. "You have so little control, it's shameful."

"Can't help it," he drawled.

"You don't _want_ to," Rukia retorts.

"Only with you," he said with a small grin.

A light flush dusted over her pale cheeks and she frowned. "You _are_ a fool," she intoned rolling her eyes. "I have to get these done before the end of the month," she said, gesturing towards the stacks of papers. Both their heads turned to the calendar hanging above her desk. The last day was marked off and circled in red ink.

"Anyway," she continued with a feverish gleam in her eye, "I also promised to train with the new recruits, but I don't think I'll have the time."

"Really? Bummer." This time it's a sharp bony elbow buried in his side. "...I mean, what do you want me to do?"

"Since you have nothing to do, why don't _you_ train with them?" Her wide hopeful eyes tugged at his heartstrings.

"Fine, I'll do it," he said resigned, hand clasped to the back of his neck.

"Thank you for the help!" she replied, face brightening up.

"I wasn't aware I had a choice," he muttered. She ignored him, returning to her hunched position over the desk as she filled and filed paperwork, the lines of her shoulder and neck, tensed and stressed.

Ichigo's expression softened. "Oi Rukia, don't work yourself to death."

oOoOoOo

Training started out roughly. When he entered the practice ground, a dozen pair of eyes turned to look at him in surprise.

"Who the hell are you?" someone asked from the back of the group.

Ichigo gritted his teeth, jaw muscle jumping in irritation. "Kurosaki Ichigo... you're training with me for the day."

There were murmurs all around.

"What happened to Vice-captain Kuchiki?" another voiced asked, worriedly.

"She's busy," he said.

Swordsmanship was his expertise so he began with that. It was going well, and everyone was starting to relax. He was really beginning to enjoy himself until the clock chimed for kido practice.

He was about as good as Renji at kido, which meant he was the last person anyone should get kido lessons from, so he had all the new recruits line up and take shots at the wooden targets for practice. The first person had a nervous look of misery about him. Ichigo tried to paste on an encouraging expression.

The ball of red fire spun from the recruit's hands and destroyed the first wooden target, denting the one behind it.

Since he had never seen Renji manage anything bigger than his fist, Ichigo was impressed. "Pretty good," he said.

"Really?" the recruit responded dully. "Vice-captain always says I need to improve. I'm actually the worse in the division," he said, shoulders slumping as he walked off dejectedly.

A drop of sweat trickled down the nape of Ichigo's neck. _What kind of monsters is she creating in this division?_ he thought.

He was beginning to feel very out of his element, when Rukia showed up. It didn't escape his notice that the recruits unconsciously straightened up their posture in the presence of their Vice-captain. Ichigo quietly took up a spot on a bench at the back of the kido courtyard and watched. They seemed more energetic with her around and by the time they finished kido practice, every one of the recruits left beaming, even the guy who was the worst at kido.

oOoOoOo

"You're done with all your paperwork?" Ichigo asked, falling into step with Rukia as they walked back to her division office.

"No," she said softly, "I just remembered what was important." Looking at her face, Ichigo thought that it was no surprise that her division loved her so much.

"So you still have more work to do, huh?" his face fell.

"I'm taking a break," she said, casting him a sidelong glance. "Someone told me not to work myself to death."

"Good advice," he remarked, smiling. As they got back to her office, he toed the door shut and clicked the latch, and then he scooped her up and set her on top of her desk.

"So, Vice-captain, what do you say we do something about your stress?" he whispered, teeth against her ear. He skimmed the sharp tip of his nose against the soft pale skin of her jawline.

"A desk? Really? You're a pervert," she said, low husky voice hitching in her throat.

"Only for you," he replied, mouth curling over hers.


	7. Ichigo

**A/N:** Last one, I will stop spamming you all now. Too bad there was no time, I had an M planned... Post-Bleach imaginings!

**Warnings: **Innuendo.

**Standard Disclaimer:** Bleach is solely the property of Kubo Tite, and I am merely borrowing his playground.

* * *

><p><em>Final arc: Year Three<em>

_Ichigo_

_The best gift of all._

Birthdays in the Kuchiki Clan are a stiff and formal affair. Byakuya no longer has trunks of kimonos and gold jewelry sent to her, but traditions are traditions, and must be observed. From what little Rukia understands, other noble clans are always invited to her birthday banquet, to bear witness to how to lavishly the Kuchiki Clan can afford to spend on their princess. That's the way it is in the Noble Clans.

Even though Rukia is now a highly ranked Gotei 13 officer, she is no more than an accessory to the clan, and for all intents and purposes, a fringe member- by adoption, not by blood. She knows there is a lot more to the power politics inside the clan and out of it than she understands or is privy to. The only thing she knows is that she will not embarrass her brother. He is holding this banquet in her honor, she will not embarrass him. She might not understand the reasons for everything that Byakuya does, but she knows he does not do things without thought, without good intentions in mind.

Still, she feels no small measure of dread as attendants help wrap her into silk with trailing sleeves and intricate designs, pin her hair up with rare ornaments. This too, is like going out to battle, in a different way.

Rukia has yet to manage that gliding walk-step outside of battle. She is not like the delicately painted and perfumed ladies of the other Noble Clans, who move with exquisite grace. Proudly, though, she holds her head up, ice and steel easy at her fingertips.

She follows Byakuya's white-haired attendant across the bridge that goes over the inner moat.

"A shortcut," he says, through the central garden. She's suddenly aware that it's much too quiet. The lights suddenly go out.

A spell forms in her hands and she holds it there in a ready crouch. "Show yourself," she demands, voice ringing out clearly. Suddenly, there's a bright flash, as the lanterns light up above her.

"SURPRISE!" There's confetti, and noisemakers, poppers, and streamers and more of the Gotei 13 there than she can count. Most surprisingly, her brother is there. Of course he would be; it's his estate after all, but she's unused to seeing him in the context and backdrop of such an informal social situation, confetti fluttering all around him.

"Nii-sama!" she exclaims.

"Rukia," her brother says in his smooth voice, as poised and at ease as ever, dignified, even with colored bits of paper dusting his shoulders. "You are passed the age where banquets are suitable."

Standing past him, she sees Renji, her division, her captain, and all her friends. Rukia suddenly realizes that all those years of awkwardly formal birthday banquets, when she was lonely and isolated, estranged from her only friend, Byakuya in his own way, had made sure that she never spent her birthdays alone.

Her eyes are wide and bright as she looks up at him, and she feels the hot press of tears behind them, an overwhelming feeling in her heart. "Nii-sama..." she whispers, there are so many words she wants to say, but she's afraid of tripping over them all. "Thank you!"

He looks at her gently. "I am not the one you should be thanking," he says. There's almost a wry tone in his voice, as he looks past her shoulder. And without a word, he glides gracefully away.

She knows it's him before she even turns around. The warm press of his reiatsu brushes against her.

"_You_ did this?" she asks.

"What's with the look of surprise?" he asks, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms. "Not like I did it alone," he says jabbing his thumb behind him. All their living world friends stand behind him, wearing strange metallic, cone shaped hats, and waving cheerily.

"Happy birthday, Rukia," he says, eyes gleaming dark and warm under the soft lighting of the lanterns above them. "This time, I'm not missing your birthday." And because they are people who let actions speak louder than words, he lets an unspoken promise echo between them- the promise that there will no more missed birthdays, for either of them.

There is no expression elegant enough to capture the complexity of what she is feeling. _Thank you_, she wants to say, _for everything_. For being the one who saved her, and for being the one she got to save.

Renji suddenly comes up behind them, clapping them both on their backs so hard, they stumble into each other. "Oi, what are you two idiots standing there for, eh? Let's get this party started!" he bellows.

oOoOoOo

Her division bakes a cake for her. It is humongous, teetering in five haphazard tiers. "Happy birthday, Kuchiki-dono!" they all chime as one, saluting smartly.

"Thank you," Rukia says softly, touched by their devotion. She straightens her shoulders. "BUT, don't think I'll go easy on you for shikai practice, just because you're on my good side!" she warns. The whole division groans good-naturedly.

"What good side?" Ichigo mutters from beside her. She elbows him in the ribs. The table where people have left gifts for her are so overflowing, it's embarrassing. There's heat in her cheeks as she opens the gifts.

The most memorable include a specialty hand-made dress from Uryuu, and a hand-knit scarf from Orihime.

"Ahaha, I'm still learning," she says, smiling charmingly. The flowers on the scarf are suspiciously like the flowers decorating the hem of the dress.

Renji gets her a brand-new sword-cleaning kit, complete with one of Seireitei's finest brands of choji oil, which smells like the soft scent of cloves.

Last, but not least, Byakuya presents to her a set of colored pencils, art easel, brushes, and a magnificent sketchbook made with the gold-flecked Hosokawa paper that's supposedly able to last 1000 years. Completing the set, he has even included a hand-inked Seaweed Ambassador drawing guide.

oOoOoOo

One would have thought that since shinigami are so long lived, the novelty of birthdays might have worn off at around 100 or so. The reality is exactly the opposite. Since death is an occupational hazard in the Gotei 13, everyone takes the opportunity to celebrate another year of survival. Birthdays are a big deal, and they're also a good excuse to cut loose.

There are tables of food, arrayed everywhere. Really, Byakuya has spared no expense. He has even put aside his long running enmity with the Shinigami Women's Association, even though she knows that he had found another one of their secret tunnels under his estate, just last week.

Rangiku is a bright spot in the party. Rukia shakes her head as she watches her wave a camera in one hand, and an open sake bottle in the other. Nearby, Kira has already ditched his garments. No one bats an eye.

The Shibas are there, Ganju and Kuukaku, and they sit with Ms. Yoruichi and Urahara, while Soi Fon hovers nearby, casting longing looks at Yoruichi, and slightly resentful looks to everyone who sit nearby.

Rukia sits with Renji and a small knot of 11th division members, watching as they play a game involving arm wrestling and stupid amounts of beer. Somehow, Hanatarou also gets included, despite his protests and objections. Ichigo has gone off to help Hisagi and Chad set up the karaoke stage.

There's a warm feeling in her heart, and Rukia feels content just to watch all her friends enjoy themselves.

oOoOoOo

Later on in the night, there are fireworks, courtesy of the Shibas. Ichigo comes by and hands her another drink.

"You've been giving me a lot of drinks," Rukia says smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me tonight?" They sit shoulder to shoulder, touch light and easy between them.

Ichigo groans, clapping one hand to his red face. "Shut up. Don't say stuff like that out loud." They don't speak as they watch the fireworks show. Ichigo only glances over at her face once, and when she meets his gaze, she sees that there something soft and unguarded in him.

Later, Renji has somehow convinced Byakuya to get up on stage and sing. They have now moved into a duet, and everyone is captivated, Rukia included. Ichigo's reiatsu nudges her. He's on the roof, gaze beckoning. She takes a flashstep up to the red tiled gables of the roof, and he flashes to another, gaze darkly charged and challenging.

_What are you up to? _she wonders, following.

He's no good at hiding and she finally catches up deep in the long wooden halls of the Kuchiki estate. "Caught you," she whispers.

"Wanted you to," he replies, turning, hand on her wrist, and suddenly, Rukia has her back against the wood paneled wall, hands gripping and tangling in his thick hair, his mouth on her pulse. It's always like this, no matter how far apart they are, they eventually draw each other close like magnets of opposing polarity.

"They're going to miss us," she says, voice low and husky. "I wanted to watch Nii-sama sing."

"You wanted to do this more," he whispers, lips brushing the tip of her ear.

She smacks him, drawing back. "You don't know that."

"You're here, aren't you?" he says, eyes dark.

"So, you did lure me here to take advantage of me!" Rukia exclaims theatrically.

"Hey, it's not luring if you followed!" Ichigo says, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I wanted to give you your present."

"Really?" Rukia says arching an eyebrow skeptically.

Ichigo pulls a box around the corner of the hall that easily dwarfs the cake her division had made for her. His sharp cheekbones are dusted with red as she pulls on the bow. The sides of the box fall open, revealing a giant plush rabbit with floppy white ears.

"Chappy," Rukia breathes, eyes shining.

"I heard you could never find the first one," he explains.

Was it that long ago? That she was a fugitive in the living world? She never was able to get the first Chappy back. The size of this second one is on the scale of ridiculous. She could probably curl up and sleep on it. Which she will...as soon as possible.

She suddenly laughs at the image of Ichigo carrying it through the senkaimon gate.

"So how embarrassing was it to get Chappy through the gate?" she asks, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Very," Ichigo answers flatly. There's a quiet pause. "Do you you like it?"

The way he asks is almost shy, almost nervous, but he holds her gaze steadily. "I love it," Rukia answers softly.

"Then it was worth it," he murmurs, smiling. "I'm almost jealous," he adds dryly, eyeing the way she's clinging onto Chappy.

"Patience. You'll get your turn," Rukia says, rubbing her face against Chappy's soft fur.

"So is this the best gift ever?" Ichigo asks, tilting his chin up.

"Nope." Rukia's eyes are still glittering in awe as she turns away from the giant Chappy.

"You're joking, Seaweed Ambassador beats Chappy? You love rabbits." he mutters, face falling.

She elbows him in the ribs. "Ichigo, it's not a competition... and that was not my favorite either," she says.

He frowns puzzled. "What-"

"Idiot," she interrupts, hooking a finger in the collar of his haori and tugging downward, "don't make me spell it out for you." When she draws her mouth against his, she feels the subtle upward curl of a smile on his lips.

They make it back to the party...eventually. There are a lot of dark empty corridors in Kuchiki mansion.


End file.
